


Hell on Heels

by beeyouteaful



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Idk what this is really, POV Second Person, but it's close?, it's not smut, playful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1988625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeyouteaful/pseuds/beeyouteaful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You enter the same bar you've been coming to for years. Your old friends tell you of the strange guy sitting at the end of the bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell on Heels

You entered the familiar bar with confidence, causing heads to turn toward the door. Your black, five inch heels clicked against the floor as you smiled at them all and strode toward the bar tender.

“Whiskey,” you told him, and he nodded. You leaned your back against the wooden counter and scoped out the rest of the establishment. There were the usual men playing pool in the middle of the room. Some older guys were sitting in the corner playing poker.

It had been a while since you’d been there. Some of your old poker buddies raised their glasses to you when you made eye contact, and you nodded back. You were definitely missed around here by some. But there were always the guys who thought you were some long, running joke that the guys who frequented the bar told to scare them off, but there you were, in the flesh. You shoved your hands into the back pockets of your dark-wash jeans and made your way over to the men at the pool table.

“Hey boys,” you greeted. The tallest, Jacob, leaned back from the table and smiled at you.

“Well, if it isn’t Little Miss Heartbreaker,” he chuckled. “Come back to cause more chaos?”

You smiled coyly. “Only if someone happens to come by,” you said.

“There’s always him, over by Zachary,” Jacob murmured to you. You turned around to face the bar and saw the back of an unfamiliar head. You turned back to your friend.

“I’ll see you around, Jacob.” He winked at you and returned to his game. You walked back to the bar to receive your drink. You sat next to the man and sipped the whiskey in front of you.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” you said. He turned to face you and studied your profile as you looked into your glass.

“I could say the same about you.” You immediately picked up his British accent.

“Oh, you’re exotic.” You drank again and then smirked at him.

“I could say the same about you,” he repeated. You laughed at that.

“What’s your name, darlin’?” you asked, facing him and taking in his gorgeous features.

“I’m Tom.” The bartender brought Tom a drink. “What about you, _darling_?”

“They call me ‘Hell on Heels,’” you told him, smirking.

“Who’s ‘they?’” You motioned to the room. “Why do they call you that?”

“I made a deal with the devil,” you said casually. “He made me pretty and smart,” you leaned in closer so your faces were inches apart, “and I’m gonna break a million hearts.” You pulled away and took another sip of whiskey.

“And how are you doing so far?” he asked.

“All these men know what I’m capable of.” You placed your hand on his thigh and leaned forward, exposing the tops of your breasts to him. “They’re smart to stay away.” Tom licked his lips and peered down at your chest.

“I’m sure you’re not all that bad,” he chuckled. You laughed and backed away, finishing your drink.

“Let’s play pool.” Tom finished his drink as well and followed you to the table. “You win, I’ll do anything you want. I win, I get that watch on your wrist.”

“Sounds good to me, darling.”

Jacob set up the triangle, and you picked out your favorite pool cue. He handed you the white cue ball and you set it on the table. Another guy handed you the chalk, and you prepared the tip of the stick.

“I’ll break.” You leaned over the table and aimed your pool cue at the center of the ball. Jacob lifted the triangle for you. The balls scattered across the table with a crack as you leaned back and watched a solid ball enter the corner pocket.

“Solids,” you claimed. You lined up your cue again and went for another solid ball. You missed—on purpose. The men around you groaned a little and you pouted slightly. “Your turn, honey.” You walked over to Jacob and stood near him and a few other men watching the game. Tom smiled at you and took his place near the cue ball.

He lined up his cue. “Red and purple stripes: left corner pocket,” he called and took his shot. Tom knocked the two striped balls into the pocket he called. The men around you gasped, but you just smiled at him. He shot again but missed.

You played against Tom for a while, going back and forth. Eventually, the two of you were dueling for the black 8 Ball.

“You’re pretty good,” he said. You grinned at him.

“You’re not bad, yourself,” you returned.

Tom stepped back to give you access to the cue ball. You moved in front of him and stood with your legs wide-spread. You bent over and gave him a great view of your ass. You heard a soft groan escape his lips.

“Like what you see, Shakespeare?” you asked, looking at him over your shoulder. He chuckled and licked his lips. You laughed and turned back to the table. The men in the bar had accumulated to watch the showdown between the foreign guy and their best girl. You concentrated on getting the cue to hit the remaining ball just right so the cue would land in the pocket instead. It worked perfectly.

“Damn it,” you growled. Jacob looked at you with a look of poor reassurance as you straightened and turned around to face Tom. “Looks like you may be able to keep your watch after all, hot stuff.” Tom smirked, and he stepped up to the table for the last time. “Don’t look so disappointed, sweetheart,” he said before he placed the cue ball down and took his winning shot.

“Well, looks like you won. I’m all yours.”

“Have another drink with me,” he offered. You nodded and he led you back to the bar. “What were you drinking earlier?”

“Whiskey.” Tom ordered your drinks and turned toward you.

“You play a pretty good game of pool. I’m impressed,” he complimented. You laughed and thanked him. Soon, the bartender gave you the drinks. “So, tell me: do you always play pool with random Brits that walk into your little American bar?” You glanced up to meet his eyes.

“You’re the first that I’ve seen here,” you replied, sipping your drink.

“So, would that mean I’m also the first Brit to ask you back to a hotel room?” He smirked. You laughed and looked down, noticing the slight bulge in his pants.

“Yes.” You looked back up. “Well, I did say I’d do anything you want, didn’t I?” Tom nodded. “If you’re serious, I’ll come back to your hotel with you.” He finished his drink.

“It would be a pleasure, darling.” You told Tom to give you a minute to say goodnight to your friends.

“I’ll wait in my car. It’s a white Jaguar.” You nodded and watched him walk out the door. After he left, you smirked to yourself as you downed the rest of the burning whiskey. You wiped your mouth on the back of your hand. Your eyes lingered on the exit.

“I’m Hell on Heels,” you growled, “and baby, I’m coming for you.” You slammed the glass on the wooden bar and strode out of the building to meet up with your next target.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so this was inspired by the song "Hell on Heels" by Pistol Annies (if you didn't already know). My sister got me hooked on the song, so this obviously sprouted from repeated listening.
> 
> P.S. I'm going away for 3 weeks, so I won't be posting any updates for a while (I'm gonna miss you all!).


End file.
